


Cards?

by notalotgoingon



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Lot of references, Pirate AU, Sykkuno and Corpse friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalotgoingon/pseuds/notalotgoingon
Summary: Sykkuno has lived his entire life on the open seas. He wouldn’t change it for the world. When he signs onto a new ship, he meets lots of new people, but one enthralls him the most. Corpse is introverted but still wants a friend.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Cards?

Morning salt air drifted into the lower deck. Many sailors were already eating, writing letters, complaining about waking up at such an ungodly hour, or shuffling their meager possessions around like a deck of cards out of boredom, but Sykkuno was merely a lump in the middle of heavy green quilt. His cheeks red from heat and smile concealed by a white feather pillow, he was a perfect angel among the grumbling men. They were mostly greasy and old, faces weathered by the ocean like battered bluffs, hands leathery and lined with hard-work and etched in sorrow, but Sykkuno was always the exception to the rule with porcelain cheeks and a shy smile that few really cherished like they should. 

The youngest of two, he was born at sea and took to it like a baby to a bottle. Walking the rafters was his first job on his father’s ship, as no other man could acquire the god-given skill Sykkuno naturally inherited. He climbed into the crow’s nest every morning and felt as though he could soar across beautiful, golden sunsets, leap into fair blue Amphrite with Poseidon’s trident guiding him to the deepest depths of the unknown.

“Sykkuno, bud,” a thick Irish accent not suppressed by many years abroad fell to his ears like honey, “time to get up. Big day ahead y’know?” Every day was more important and required more grandeur than the last in Jack’s mind.

Sykkuno let Jack, the first mate, continue on explaining every detail of their plan for the morning and into evening. He loved to talk at length about the dimensions and capilities of their mighty vessel, The Skeld, and Sykkuno loved to please people, so he let Jack speak. Nodding at the correct intervals, Sykkuno busied himself with laying out his trousers and slipping on a plain shirt that would do well for the tiresome day ahead. Nothing too fancy, of course: that would be saved for when they went ashore.

He loved the sea, open waters, flying waves cresting to break and fall forevermore, but he craved society and people. The ship had structure, her master made certain of that, but the mainland had probability and excitement. He could go to the markets, talk to fine ladies and gentlemen, parade around town, and watch the seagulls before the sun even set. 

He missed his home, like he had ever had one. His birthplace was the sea, and that was how it would be, always. Sykkuno’s family had a hard time parting with the ocean. In fact, from four generations back, his family had been buried at sea. But he yearned to find land, fall down on his knees and worship the fine beaches, give thanks for the safety they provided and how lovely the palm trees that swayed gently beside would be. He could feel the sand creeping through his palms, but alas, he threw those unruly notions out because a homesick sailor made a worthless one too.

He found the ladder in practically darkness, clambering upstairs with little grace. He remembered Jack talking about a nice breakfast Cookie had whipped up for a special event. That was right before he deserted his favorite double-breasted wooly coat in Sykkuno’s hands. He decided to return it to Jack at breakfast, but upon reaching the surface, a welcome change from life underneath, a harsh chill nipped at his naturally pink cheeks. He slipped his arms inside the warm sleeves and took a nice walk around.

“Are you coming in for breakfast?” A deep, hoarse voice resounded, seemingly reverberating off the wooden floor and across the open waters.

Upon hearing the captain’s voice, Sykkuno contorted his neck, hiding behind his turned up collar and pulling Jack’s coat tighter around his abdomen. Maybe it was to combat the cold or to make himself smaller in case the man’s fierce gaze happened to find his back. 

Not many had ever caught a glimpse of the face that had turned many men to stone. It was not as if the captain was a gorgon, though he struck fear into people’s hearts all the same, but men quaked and shivered all the same. They would weep and beg for mercy that would not be given until silvery pebbles grazed the wooden planks. The man collected a ring for every body and fashioned friendship bracelets out of teeth. Well...maybe that was a stretch. At least, that was what Sykkuno heard when he signed onto one of the most famous ships on the Atlantic. Three to four weeks from Liverpool to Boston, faster than any Sykkuno had heard of. The Skeld itself was magnificent. Towering sails that billowed, propelling a mass of three decks across the vast ocean. The centerpiece was the maiden wrapped around the bow. Hand-crafted ivory flowers, roses, Sykkuno believed, decorated her wild, beautifully carved mane of chestnut. 

Finally, he dared to peer behind him, one leg nervously nudging at a pile of ropes. An eyepatch adorned the captain’s face, eyeliner on the other, but what surprised Sykkuno was that he was even out in daylight. Other sailors had ridiculed Sykkuno for joining the ranks of the “Vampire Pirate,” as they called him due to his notoriously broken sleep schedule and affinity for blood. However, Sykkuno detested that nickname, for in his two weeks on the ship, he hadn’t seen or heard of any bloodshed. The cannons were maintained, free of dust, but he’d never seen them fire. The crew had daggers, grimy, dull little things, but they clearly had never smeared scarlet on the weapons. Their beady eyes had never known battle, at least not on this ship.

“Ah...yes, sir.” He reminded himself of his manners, “Is there anything you require?”

The captain seemed almost shocked, but Sykkuno had no idea why, “No, no, your presense at the table shall suffice.”

Sykkuno did as he was bade, following closely behind his taller companion. Indeed, Jack was correct with a myriad of things. First, the jacket was far more comfortable than its threadbare appearence would have one believe. Second, the morning meal was entirely too delicious, so much that he became suspicious of witchcraft when the tasty morsels found his tastebuds. Third, the captain was actually very pleasant and did not live up to his nickname at all. Captain Corpse, he ran it over in his head, doesn’t exactly sound right. He determined he would need to find a new name that would fit the man better. Something not quite warm and fuzzy, he might not like that, but lovely all the same.

In fact, Jack informed him at noon when they were adjusting ropes, it seemed like Sykkuno could do no wrong in Corpse’s eyes. They played a game of cards after breakfast, and the captain had gone so far as to casually nick coins from the pile and flip, juggle, or hide them to gain Sykkuno’s laughter. Of course, the boy had assumed this was a natural occurrence, but Jack denied this claim, insinuating that the captain had taken a liking to the new crew member. Mulling it over, Sykkuno did find that Corpse had called him a friend that morning. That was nice: he didn’t have many friends on his father’s ship, especially after his death and the inevitable mutiny. Sailors tended to like the captain; they detested the captain’s son.

“So, Sykkuno!” Jack greeted him as he slid down from the crow’s nest, “What’ll you be doing ’til lunch?”

The slightly shorter boy shrugged, for he hadn’t given it much thought. There was a chance he could sneak some dice from Nogla, Corpse’s accountant of sorts. Maybe he could play a few games against whoever he could find. 

There was always the unopened parcel of stationary on the desk belowdeck. Perhaps his sister, Rae, might like a letter from him. She was off studying medicine in Paris under a false alias. This charade was constructed for two reasons. One, their family was infamous even on land for housing smugglers, stealing, and sailing the high seas with steely eyes and determined gazes. Secondly, as a woman, she felt her classmates and professors might take her more seriously with a name like Rupert or Reginald. Even going by two initials seemed more preferable than being the punchline to another set of jokes regarding her inadequcy due to stereotypical gender roles enforced by misogynistic protocol.

Finally, he answered, “I’ve got some extra time, what do you suggest?”

“Come play more cards?” Jack suggested, a wild look in his eye. Nothing interested the Irishman more than potatoes and cards, and as far as Sykkuno knew, they would be having potato cakes for midday meal. He knew Jack, as with many men on and off the ship, loved gambling, especially with big items, even when he didn’t have the funds to back his wagers up, resorting to ridiculous techniques of bargaining and pleading until his opponents gave in. Sykkuno would need to be prepared, as his own skills were lackluster in comparison.

“Fold,” Sykkuno murmured, barely above a whisper. They had taken their game in Nogla’s rooms, the parlor to be exact, which shared a wall with Corpse’s bedroom. Of course everyone knew the man hardly slept, but it was still a mystery as to where he was at all times. Sykkuno wohld not risk the captain’s favor over a simple matter like disturbing him. 

Coincidentally though, another seafaring man was bored just before noon. 

“Nogla,” came the hoarse voice, from many years calling orders amidst the harshness of open waters and crisp summer wind, chilling autumn air, or even the thundering cries of a storm.

The owner of the name, a dark-haired man, stood, placed his cards down, perhaps a winning hand from what Sykkuno could see of Jack’s, and crossed the room in two strides to admit their visitor. It was the captain, as the three men had deduced. He hobbled in, complaining of an accident with some sort of metal paper that had fought back so fiercely no mortal man could withstand the stubborn blows. Sykkuno hid his childlike smile behind a soft hand. He grew to like the master of the ship more and more with each passing hour.

The only window in the room was soon blown shut by a strong gust, Eurus’s anger pounding the gentle ocean. Drops clung to the window, a few broaching the barrier to take a chance inside the cabin. They raced each other, faster, faster, outpacing the large thunderbolts that grasped their limbs and took hold, casting them into the sea, just another droplet in an unforgiving deep blue pool. 

“I like it when it rains,” Corpse grinned, lopsided and genuine. Whether it was directed to Sykkuno or not, he treasured it, invaluable in his eyes.

Through a cacophony of broken thunder and flashing lights, the four men carried on, throwing out loose change, IOUs, fancy buttons, and once, Jack even attempted to cover his gambling debt with a smooth bout of flattery directed to Corpse. The man did his best to keep a stoic facade, but his face disolved into cheery giggles that warmed Sykkuno’s cheeks, solidifying his devotion to their newly formed friendship.

Something peculiar happened as well: the four skipped lunch. It was not intentionally, I assure you, but the men were having such a fine time parading their victories, tossing money into a bottomless betting pool of hopes and disastrous results, and laughing at their companions’ antics to notice the ticking away of their lunch hour.

Dinner came very quickly. Sykkuno had taken on the job of setting the table for about three dozen hungry men, and he took pride in arranging every utensil parallel to the others, polishing the handles of those that looked unsatisfactory. He sat down just as Jack approached with the captain at his side.

“Hi, Corpse,” he spoke clearly and confidently, not daunted at all by his superior’s presence as he had been before. He could almost believe them equals.

The man nearly galloped to take the open space next to Sykkuno, declaring, “He said hi to me first, he’s mine!”

Four grumbling men were witness to this shocking display from their leader as they stumbled into the dining room. Corpse was unaffected. He heaved a goblet of wine into Sykkuno empty hand, but he misjudged the distance and poured a generous amount onto his white shirt. 

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s no big deal, Sykkuno, stains come out and what’s one less white t-shirt? I can always borrow one from Charlie.”

The others around them guffawed at retold jokes and slung back mead, polishing off another satisfactory dinner. Sykkuno couldn’t concentrate on eating, much less socializing with everyone else. He finally gave in and returned his plate to the kitchen, faintly sighing when his face hit sweet salt air. He failed to notice the guilt and sorrow pouring forth from Corpse’s stare that found the floor the most interesting thing in the whole world. He lamely dabbed at the moisture residing on his shirt, content to see Sykkuno the next morning. An introvert, he often found it hard to be at full energy at all times. Sometimes, he liked to hide out and find solace in writing music or simply walking around the ship, maintaining the speed and checking for damages.

Sykkuno meandered around, facing the chilly night head-on. He had a friend for once, a companion. He had Jack, boisterous and humorous. He had a fine gentleman for a captain who had yet to spill any sailor blood on the fine wooden deck. Life pushed and pulled with the moon’s ever changing desires, but Sykkuno’s days remained stationary. He liked it a lot. Letting the gentle crest of each moonlit wave bring him a bit closer to his welcoming place of rest, he let himself be peaceful and calm, warmly expectant of another beautiful morning with delicious breakfast and friendly men surrounding him.


End file.
